


The Gifts that Lying Fate Brings Us

by qwerty



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Accidental Relationship, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bondage, M/M, Magical Healing Cock, Sex Magic, tragic lack of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:07:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwerty/pseuds/qwerty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While injured and on the run from Morgana, Arthur finds more trouble, and then help of an unexpected nature from the same source.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gifts that Lying Fate Brings Us

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Merlin Reverse Big Bang for thedeathchamber's gorgeous artwork here:  
> http://thedeathchamber.livejournal.com/16162.html 
> 
> Please go give the artist love. :)

The sun was too bright, the voices of vendors calling their wares too strident above the noise of the crowd. Arthur tried to shade his eyes with his hand, not very effectively, and muttered, "We need to find a way off this rock," half to himself, but Gwaine must have heard him.

"Back to Camelot?"

"I don't know," Arthur said, after a reluctant pause, and then someone jostled him and he lost a few moments half-stumbling along like a drunk, trying to regain his balance before he managed to walk into another faceless stranger and stop.

He'd lost Gwaine again in the crowd again. He tried to look about where he thought he had last seen Gwaine, but everyone in their drab long robes looked the same to him even when their faces were turned in his direction. The angry scream of a small child pierced the air behind him, too close, and stabbed into his head. Arthur forgot himself and sucked in a deep breath without covering his face, and was hit by the mingled smells of incense, animal dung, spices, perfumes and massed hot, sweaty humanity. He choked, then, couldn’t hold back the harsh, wracking coughs, his wounds aching anew as he doubled over, fighting down nausea.

His vision swam, then Gwaine was back from wherever he had flitted off to, just in time to catch him before he could plant face-first into the dusty ground. He kept a firm grip on Arthur, steadying him until the spasms eased and he could stand upright again. "Told you, you should have stayed at the lodging house while I checked out the market," Gwaine said, reproachful.

Arthur ignored him with sullen determination, watching the crowd flow around to give them a wide berth — inevitable, he supposed, with his pallor and the coughing fit that probably sounded like he had some plague and was dying. The sun felt like it was drumming on his head, even with the odd-looking local head-covering Gwaine had insisted he wear, which looked frankly ridiculous with his cloak and armour. "Have you seen any sign of your friend yet? Where were you supposed to meet?"

A gusty sigh, and Gwaine raised his face and palms to the blazing white sky in mock supplication, a move that made Arthur's eyes water in sympathy, though Gwaine himself seemed immune to the heat and brightness. "The man never listens to me," he declaimed to the crowd and won them a larger, wary berth from the passers-by. "Why do I call him friend and bring him with me on my adventures?"

Arthur grabbed his arm and tried to pull him from the ring of onlookers starting to gather around, feeling the pressure of too many unfriendly eyes on them. "You talk so much nonsense that I forget why I let you follow me around. Stop standing in the middle of the road, we're blocking traffic. Come on." He gave a harder tug, and Gwaine winked at a pretty young woman staring at them before he consented to be led away by Arthur.

His strength did not last long. They had barely gone the length of one street and turned into a quiet alleyway before his breath was coming in short pants and his vision was blurring again. He dropped Gwaine's arm and found the shaded side of a brick house to lean against, turning his head so he could press his hot face to the cool, smooth surface. "I'm fine." He waved off Gwaine's attempt to take his pack from him. "Just need to rest a bit."

Gwaine only grinned at him, unconcerned, as though they were not being pursued by Morgana's guards and had not just left a market square full of people who would now surely be able to remember them and point out the direction they took.

As though Arthur were not nursing a wound from Morgana's poisoned dagger in his side and feeling his life ebb away with every aching throb. Arthur closed his eyes and thought longingly of the soft bed he'd not even spent a night in before they discovered Morgana's treachery. His sister, in league with Morgause.

 _"What I want most in the seven kingdoms, dear brother, is to see Uther dead, but since I can't reach him, you'll do as well. You can keep his place in the tomb I prepared for him until his turn comes."_ He pressed his fingers into the damp bandages that were starting to show red, welcoming the bright flash of pain that whited out the memory of Morgana's hate-twisted face. He hadn't asked her why she wanted Uther dead. He was afraid he already knew the answer, remembering how Morgause's message had called her sister, and promised that Uther would be made to answer for his crimes. His father, who had taken Morgana into his house and treated her like his own daughter when her mother died under mysterious circumstances after the lady was caught sheltering druids during one of Uther's witch hunts.

Arthur covered his eyes and just breathed, trying to collect his thoughts. "Morgause has Cendred's ear. Cendred will have put out an alert at the port by now. Can your friend really get us out?"

Gwaine was silent a moment before he replied. "He says he can." Paused again. "Are you ready to go yet?"

"She thought I knew the location of something. I don't even know what she was looking for." He sighed. When he opened his eyes, Gwaine had an odd look on his face. He hesitated to call it sympathy. Perhaps Gwaine was just thirsty. He looked around them and couldn't quite remember walking into this alley. 

"Yeah, fine. I'm ready. Lead the way," he said, and split his attention between following Gwaine and putting one foot in front of the other. It was a while before they stopped again, and he looked up.

"Where are we now? Don't tell me you've lost us again."

"You wound me. The road you wanted to take was the wrong one too, that time, and you weren't even drunk. At least I got us on the right ship, in the end."

Unfortunately true, Arthur had to concede, though he would never admit it to Gwaine. Instead, he looked around them, trying to place the alleyway on the opened map of the city pinned over Morgana's study table that he'd glanced over before he'd found the illuminating message from Morgause. "Your friend, is he trustworthy?" he asked, for a change of topic.

Gwaine went instantly misty with affection. "Oh, my friend is sweet, wonderful, the best man in all the seven kingdoms and two republics —"

"I don't need to know how he is in bed," Arthur interrupted waspishly, found that rolling his eyes made his head spin more, and closed his eyes instead. "Can we trust him not to sell us out to Morgana? She has a certain degree of influence here."

Gwaine very carefully slapped the back of his head, just enough for him to feel it and not fall over. "You'll like him. Much better than you like me. He's a good man." He paused. "But I don't know his friend."

"And that's who we're relying on," Arthur concluded.

Gwaine shrugged. "Percy's a good guy. Anyone he trusts can't be all that bad."

"He calls _you_ friend," Arthur pointed out, and Gwaine laughed.

Perhaps Gwaine had some defence or rejoinder in mind, but a shouted command drew their attention to the young woman Gwaine had winked at in the marketplace, staring at them from across the busy street. She gestured sharply at armed guards in Morgana's livery, and they fell in behind her as she advanced on their alley, pushing their way through the crowd.

"Shit." Arthur's hand automatically went to his sword, but they were outnumbered, and he was in no condition to fight. He tugged off the peace knot and drew it anyway, putting himself between Gwaine and the approaching guards. "Gwaine. You've been a good friend. Run."

"What? You honourable idiot, I'm not leaving you!" Gwaine grabbed Arthur's free arm and pulled it over his shoulder, taking most of his weight, though the stretch burned in his injured side, making him gasp. "Put your sword away, we can try to lose them while they're still stuck in the crowd. Damn it, Percy, where's your friend?"

Everything was lost in a haze of pain and not enough air after that. Arthur was vaguely aware of Gwaine taking his sword from him and dragging him stumbling along, muttering curses at him, Morgana, Uther, and Percy's friend as he went, but not Percy himself. He must be really good in bed, Arthur decided as they turned, and found they had run into a dead end.

Gwaine let him go, and he found a wall to walk blindly into and lean against, gasping for air while stars flashed behind his eyes. "Told... told you to leave me," he managed while Gwaine tilted his head at the wall, looking baffled.

"I'm sure Lancelot said to go this way." Behind them, the voices of Morgana's guardsman could be heard calling their coded positions to each other. They weren't that close, but close enough that backing out of this dead end would send them right into their waiting arms. "Fuck."

Old furniture and broken crates were piled in two towering stacks, but not quite enough to hide two grown men effectively, even if it was moderately clean. Arthur reached out and took his sword back from Gwaine's belt. "Wrong turn, or a trap?"

"Neither," said a hooded man, stepping out from behind one stack. He pushed back his hood to reveal his face, darkly handsome and marked with sadness, but with a gentle, friendly smile. Arthur stepped back and gripped his sword tightly, trying to control the shaking of his hands. "I'm Lancelot," the man said. "Percival told us you were poisoned, highness?"

"We need to get out of here first," Arthur hissed, very aware that the voices were getting closer. The guards did not sound troubled — they probably knew the area better than Arthur or Gwaine did, and knew they had nowhere to escape to. Gwaine stepped up beside him, and looked no more trusting than Arthur felt.

"Of course." Lancelot nodded, and looked up. Something scrabbled on the roof above them, and Arthur nearly dropped his sword as a white, reptilian head appeared over the edge, looked directly at him and turned to chirrup at Lancelot. "Yes, that's him, Aithusa. Think you can carry him to the Dragonlord?"

The small white dragon dropped down heavily before Arthur, and looked him up and down, then nodded.

"You can't be serious," Arthur started to protest, waving at the half-grown creature that was barely the size of a horse or cow, only to have Lancelot simply heave him over the dragon's back like a sack of grain. "Oof," was all Arthur could finish with.

"I like you," Gwaine told Lancelot, who smiled warmly at him as the dead end melted away before them. Arthur felt the warm, bumpy body of the dragon flexing beneath him as the dragon bounced through, and decided he was too tired to keep his eyes open.

* * *

When Arthur opened his eyes again, he found himself staring at the shaded canopy of a bed. His body was thrumming with a strange energy that tingled all over his skin and reached into his guts and marrow, as though it was trying to pull his insides out. And he was also naked. And clean. And not in pain. That brought him to full alertness instantly. He was in... a strange room. Bright, with wide open windows. Curtains around him. An intricately detailed mosaic on one wall depicting a dragon in gleaming bronze, set against the dark green of forest, a simple brass lamp lying on a small table set in an alcove. Then he turned over, blinking in confusion, and became aware that he was lying on a giant bed that felt so decadently luxurious he wasn't sure he wouldn't just keep sinking until he was completely submerged and all the happier for it. The sheets were softer and smoother than the finest silks he'd ever touched, cool and delicately impregnated with the scent of fresh flowers and sunshine.

He could just lie there and roll in the bed forever, rub his face in the lush, yielding pillows. And he would have, if he didn't roll over and nearly land on top of someone lying there beside him — a pale young man of perhaps his own age, with a short cap of dark hair and sharply chiselled features softened by full, pink lips and rather odd ears. He was dressed in the same filmy, ridiculously soft silks they lay on, that clung to the sleek lines of his long body and slender limbs, inviting caresses, and wasn't that thought completely improper considering that Arthur didn't even know his name or why he was here.

"Uh," he said. Their faces were close, too close. Something about his face was familiar — strange yet familiar, familiar yet strange. He could move forward just a little more, and their lips would be touching. Arthur glanced down and discreetly tugged up the soft, weightless blanket over his hips, hiding the evidence of how much he was enjoying the sensation of magical energy and the bed and the company. He cleared his throat loudly, feeling his cheeks burn as the silk slid over his erection and he shifted his hips involuntarily, pressing it into the bed. The man did not stir. 

"Excuse me?" he tried again, hand hovering tentative over the man's sharp-edged cheekbone, then moving down to the more appropriate shoulder. He gave it a careful shake, fingers shaping automatically around the firm muscles and holding on. It felt good, ridiculously good to touch the man, even with the fine silk between them.

The sleeping man sighed. And smacked his lips unattractively, breaking Arthur's dazed fascination but not wilting his erection, which was still buzzing with the rest of him, as if offended by his refusal to pay it attention. It was magic, had to be.

"Hello?" Arthur asked, and with great effort of will, removed his fractious hand from where it had wandered down to the man's elbow and seemed on the verge of making a daring leap to his hip. "Wake up — uuuuurgh," he groaned, and damn it, if the man wasn't going to wake up and do something about whatever spell it was that was making him feel so urgent and full of, of something, he was just going to hump this amazing bed and despoil it thoroughly as it deserved.

The long, dark lashes fluttered and finally lifted. He had blue eyes, Arthur noted, and the pink lips looked even better parted in an "Oh!" as he took in Arthur's proximity and bolted upright. He made a quick cutting motion with his hand, and Arthur felt the thread of energy that he now realised was discernibly humming between them snap, the remnants of power on his side rushing into him and down his cock, and he came into the sheets with an embarrassing high-pitched whine. 

And when the stupid thing stopped pumping come into the poor, ruined sheets, he realised he was still hard, and hard awake, buzzing, like he could go another ten or so times and still want to fuck something — fuck someone, who was staring at him horrified, which had to be the least flattering reaction to him coming Arthur had ever seen.

"I am so sorry," babbled the man, completely aghast. "I didn't mean to, we didn't even — I'm Merlin."

"You're an idiot. Just go away, Merlin." Arthur let his face drop into the pillow, growling in frustrated humiliation as he thrust uselessly into the come-slicked sheets for relief, because his bed companion was so clearly mortified and unwilling.

"This is completely my fault," Merlin said firmly, taking hold of Arthur's hips and turning him over. Arthur groaned; Arthur's oppressed cock sprang up and cheered. "I was feeding my power into your body to burn out the poison, and I fell asleep and kept filling you up. That's why you feel like this now."

Arthur inhaled deeply, and his legs fell open to make space for Merlin without consulting his brain. "You going to help me with that?" his mouth asked, and on reflection, Arthur decided it was a good idea.

"Yes, can I?" Merlin grinned, and his oddly attractive face looked dazzlingly silly all scrunched up with delight.

Arthur raised his open hands, palms up in invitation. "What are you waiting for?"

Apparently satisfied that Arthur was more than pleased with his offer, Merlin rubbed Arthur's thighs, spreading them further apart while Arthur gripped and released the sheets impatiently, halfway ready to grab him by his ridiculous ears to hurry things up. As though reading his mind, a warm sensation like an exhaled breath drew his wrists gently but inexorably over his head, and the same sure, intangible force held his ankles still when he would have used his legs to pull Merlin closer. Surprised, a little breathless with both urgent need and anticipation, Arthur looked up at Merlin questioningly.

"I need to concentrate to leech off the excess power," Merlin told him firmly, eyes glowing gold, and then he felt it begin, a faint, cool tickle all over his skin like breaking out in a sweat, and a sort of ebb rippled over him like uncountable tiny tongues of air rushing to lap him all up.

Arthur groaned, overwhelmed, in almost true pain now. "I thought you meant you were going to, aah!" He writhed, struggling against the bonds, the tortuous sensations feathering all over him unsatisfactorily, with only Merlin's warm hands on his thighs a fixed, grounding presence. "It's — I need you, uh, please!"

Merlin blinked at him, the flickering gold in his eyes showing his distraction. "You want me to, really?"

"Sometime today would be good," Arthur snapped at him, and nearly swallowed his tongue when Merlin took him at his word and wrapped his lips around the head of his straining cock, suckling. When Arthur tried to thrust into the heavenly wet heat, he found that the tickling ripples all over him were as good as bonds as well, holding him immobile and frustrated.

But Merlin didn't keep him waiting too long; he sucked a few times, as though to get used to it, then began to bob his head up and down, taking him gradually deeper, until Arthur forgot about the teasing tickles and all his world narrowed down to Merlin's head between his legs and the hot, wet channel wrapped around him to the root, milking him steadily, on and on, all sense of time gone to the pounding rush of blood and breath and the sucking, and rhythmic press of fingers inside him sparking little storms that sizzled down his limbs to the tips of his fingers and toes.

At some point, Arthur became aware that he was simply wrapped around Merlin's head and shoulders, holding loosely onto him with arms and legs, bonds dissolved, while Merlin sipped sleepily at his softened cock. There was no more buzzing foreign energy, no more mindless desire to rut. Just warm content and peace. _Free at last,_ he thought, a little regretful at the prospect of having to disentangle himself and part from Merlin, and feeling echoes of Merlin's own reluctance.

Wait, what?

Merlin pulled back from him, infected by his surprise and just as confused, he could feel. 

Arthur sat up and rolled his shoulders, stretching a little. He felt no soreness, no aches or the mental fuzziness he would have expected after such intense sex and being in such an unnatural position for so long. He simply felt refreshed and alert, as after a good night's sleep.

The instant his lingering fingers left Merlin's skin, he was dressed. In the fresh set of spare clothes he had enough presence of mind to grab before he fled Morgana's manor with Gwaine. He straightened, and his cloak nearly slipped from his shoulders.

"What just happened here?" Arthur demanded, taking stock of their surroundings, stranger yet than the scene he had first woken to. The bed was unsoiled by their activities — indeed, there was no bed at all, just a woven carpet on the floor, however lush and comfortable. The lamp was gone. They were in the same room, only windowless. Yet it was still bright. And the dragon mosaic... 

Light flickered down its length, giving it the impression of movement. 

Merlin winced. "How did... You're in my house!" 

"This is your house? Where were we before, then?" He looked around, trying to figure out what had been real, and what only tricks Merlin had played on him.

"You were delirious and raving about beds! So I conjured you one."

Arthur looked down at the carpet. Merlin looked guilty and frightened, and he felt that way too, deep inside where the thread of energy they'd shared had returned. It didn't take any thought at all for Arthur to reach out and draw him close, brushing a thumb over the lips he wanted to kiss, projecting reassurance that he knew Merlin had meant him no harm. It was as natural for Merlin to bend and kiss him in return, their emotions still intertwined with each others'.

The dragon mosaic moved, undeniably this time, turning its head to regard them with fierce eyes. "Your waiting is at an end. You have found the other halves of your whole at last. You will be stronger for it, united against the forces that would see you parted." Done, the dragon turned back to its original position and was still once more.

"What was it talking about?" Arthur felt compelled to ask, stroking Merlin's leg.

Merlin was pained. That would take some getting used to, Arthur decided, the way Merlin shared all his thoughts and emotions with a child's restraint, and felt Merlin's indignation brush lightly over the thought. "As far back as I remember, Kilgharrah's been nattering about finding the other half of my soul, but not so much what finding it would mean. And I remember a long time back." 

"How far back do you remember?" He shivered, unreasonably, and rested his cheek against Merlin's flat stomach, feeling the idea of familiarity between them spring to renewed life. "I feel like we've done this before."

Merlin stroked his hair, mind and voice falling into the distance. "I don't remember being trapped. Just being here, and the dragon advising me. I thought he meant you would free me, but now you're in here with me."

Trapped, for an unknown period of time. But trapped with Merlin, and away from Morgana, perhaps. Arthur considered the idea. And then a thought struck him. "Where are we trapped? And where is Gwaine? And your friend, Lancelot? What happened to them?"

"They're safe," Merlin answered immediately, then thought about his answer. "As safe as I could make them. I sealed off the dead end behind a barrier and conjured a house we could all rest in, then I started to heal you. But somewhere along the way you were drawn into my lamp instead. I'm so sorry. I didn't know this would happen."

How long had Merlin been trapped? How long would Arthur be trapped? To distract himself from the thought, he asked Merlin, "So what are Gwaine and Lancelot doing now? Is Gwaine bothering Lancelot? He seems like a sensible man."

Merlin smiled faintly at him. "I can see them. They're playing cards. Gwaine is losing." Arthur barked a short laugh at that. "Do-Do you want to try going out? We could surprise them.

He didn't want to raise his hopes, but sometimes it was better to pull an arrow out directly than leave it in to fester. If he was going to be trapped in this room with Kilgharrah and Merlin forever, it was probably better to know sooner rather than later. And if he could go outside to explore and meet people like Merlin did, then he should find out about it sooner rather than later as well. "Fine, here we go. Take my hand."

Merlin's smile was slightly tremulous as he took Arthur's proffered hand. "Think about leaving, seeing Gwaine and Lancelot.

He closed his eyes and tried to remember Gwaine and Lancelot's faces, imagine them playing cards at a table, the small white dragon coiled and napping behind Lancelot. Light swelled behind his eyelids in his mind, and an image of Merlin flashed before him instead, dressed like an ordinary freedman of Camelot. Then it seemed Merlin was about to slip from him. Panicking, he grabbed Merlin's hand in both of his and held on as tightly as he could.

There was a sharp cracking sound. He inhaled sharply, felt Merlin's own jolt of surprise, and found himself with his hands joined to Merlin's, standing before a pole-axed-looking Gwaine and Lancelot. "It worked?" he asked, feeling a seed of hope swell.

Something cracked with a dull metallic clang. Lancelot gawked at them a moment more, dropping his cards, and jumped up to look at the lamp in the alcove Arthur remembered.

It had fallen over, side split open across the unlovely sigils etched over it. "What does this mean?" Lancelot asked, hand frozen over the lamp, not daring to touch.

Merlin shook his head, closing his eyes, and opened them again. "I can't. I can't go back. I." He looked lost, disbelieving, and the bond that linked them told Arthur, terrified.

"You're free," Lancelot said, smiling. He picked up the brass lamp and turned it over in his hands, wondering.

"Kilgharrah was in there," Merlin said, voice very small. Aithusa uncoiled from behind Lancelot and padded up to nudge him with her nose, thrilling. He clutched at the young dragon like a lifeline.

"Anyone want an apple?" Gwaine called out brightly, fishing about in his pack and handing out fruit. "I bought them while shopping with his highness earlier. Here." He pressed one on Merlin, and when Aithusa hissed at the intrusion, he offered the suspicious young dragon one too. "Come on, Arthur, take it," he insisted, wrapping Arthur's numb hands around an apple. "I promise I didn't put these ones with my socks," he whispered in a voice pitched to carry, and Lancelot coughed out a small laugh as he choked on the bite of apple he had taken.

Arthur smiled at them all, made a show of sniffing his apple carefully and wiping it on his shirt before he bit into it, and Merlin looked at him bemused before carefully imitating his actions and biting into his own apple. Aithusa set hers on fire.

"All right," Arthur said, swallowing his last bite and throwing the core at the wall for Aithusa to spit flames at. "Gwaine said you could get us through Cendred's blockade. What was the plan?"

Lancelot looked abashed, and Merlin discomfited. He looked at them expectantly.

Gwaine tilted his head, beamed at Arthur. "Magic? Just a guess, since our friend here was a genie until you got your paws on him." Merlin smiled sheepishly, nodding in agreement, and wiggled his fingers at Arthur.

"I'm fairly sure I had magic before I was sealed in the lamp," Merlin said, hopeful, but not as sure as he sounded. "I just need to check and see what I can do, see if it's all intact, before we make a final decision."

"We'll be fine no matter what," Arthur told him, and made sure he meant it. Merlin smiled at him.

* * *

**Epilogue**

"Do you think the dragon could pass for a..." Arthur furrowed his brow and stared very hard at Aithusa, who glared back at him. "Never mind. Invisibility spell?"

"That's not going to work either," Merlin said. Just then, Gwaine snored, surprisingly loud in the close confines of their cabin. Merlin leaned forward and nudged him with a foot, provoking another snore. He climbed over Gwaine's bunk and crawled into bed with Arthur with a little sigh. "It's been months. Morgana hasn't given up searching for you. She's followed us through Essetir, Mercia, Ismere. Do you really not want to go back to Camelot?"

He shrugged and buried his cold nose in Merlin's warm neck, breathing in deeply. "She wants you too, you know. I don't think she knows you're no longer a lamp yet, no longer bound to obey your lamp's owner. We can go to Nemeth next. Mithian will help us. Or we can look up Elena."

Merlin muttered darkly and rolled them to lie on top of Arthur, letting their legs and hips slot together so they could rock against each other. Arthur simply sighed and kissed Merlin's neck, taking a little warning nibble and unfastening his trousers so he could pull Merlin's hand in where he wanted it. "They're old friends, there's nothing for you to be jealous about when you had the other half of my soul before I was born. Mm. You have such nice hands."

"Ugh, get another room if you won't let me join in, you cheap, horny, sappy goats," Gwaine groaned from his bunk, throwing a pillow at them. "Where's Lancelot?"

Arthur grinned. "He got a message from your Percival and is going to fetch him. I'll finally get to see if he is really the best in five kingdoms," he teased.

Gwaine brightened immediately, almost falling out of bed in his excitement. "Really? You're not joking?"

"They're meeting at the Rising Sun," Merlin informed him. "Now shoo."

"Room's all yours, push all the beds together, I don't care." Then he did fall off the bed while getting into his trousers and for once paused to give the shirt he picked up a sniff before pulling it on. "Have fun, I'm off, don't do anything I wouldn't do," he said, and left them alone.


End file.
